


All She Knew

by felandaris



Series: Another Place And Time [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Aggression, Angst, Angst and Smut, Consensual Sex, Cullenlingus, Cunnilingus, F/M, Jealousy, Light Yaoi, Love Triangles, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism, bearded!Alistair, cause this is me writing after all, smut with feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 21:18:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5681083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felandaris/pseuds/felandaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One woman, two men and a fateful night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All She Knew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ceranna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceranna/gifts).



> Thanks to Ceranna's exciting prompt I finally wrote the Amell sandwich. Unlike the Trevelyan threesome this is no happy smutfest but a bit of an angst orgy so be warned and (hopefully) enjoy!

Solona didn't know how they'd ended up in this particular predicament- two exiled Wardens, cured from the Taint and ready to grow old together. She had no idea why they hadn’t left Skyhold as soon as they’d gotten help in changing identities. All she knew was that their brief visit to the tower office had digressed beyond a few drinks and friendly reminiscence.

 

And now she was lying on the creaky cot, writhing under the bodies, the frantic caresses of not one but two men. One her chosen, her lover of a decade and designated father of her children; endless months of duty-bound separation just behind and still between them. The other a mere shadow of a life left behind- until he'd opened the door, bringing back years of repressed longing with a single look and a shy smile.

 

The evening had begun amicably innocent, a little awkward even- handshakes and compliments, a fine bottle or two and a catch-up of their lives since the Blight. Even the odd silence and the occasional lingering glance couldn’t possibly have foretold what was to happen.

 

Then, somewhere between a tale of times past and a half-slurred jest it had all spiralled out of control. In the haze of alcohol and suddenly sparked lust she’d never registered who’d pounced on her. Not that it mattered now when her heart beat faster by the second and a pleasant damp was spreading from her centre.

 

Along with the brandy’s bitter warmth on her tongue, between her temples, Alistair and Cullen's smells of leather and sweat had her head spinning. Either of them had yet to kiss her. But already their mouths on her neck and ears, their hands groping through fabric had her arching, clutching at them.

 

Whereas Alistair had developed a rugged masculinity with age, Cullen was smoother in appearance; having shed the beard Alistair had grown, slicking back those unruly curls to reveal his face’s handsome contours. Even that mysterious lip scar flattered him. He’d have looked downright dashing if not for the _broken_ in his eyes- that faint dullness only hinting at the army of demons haunting his soul. A feature he very much shared with Alistair.

 

Solona knew what they were doing was wrong. She had no doubt it would sooner or later cast doom upon the relationship she’d just returned to. Yet she lay hypnotised, unable to resist the sinful delight of their attention. In the shadow of arousal's glow lingered the bitter coil of impending tragedy. But her over-stimulated senses numbed out all reason.

 

Alistair’s lips claimed hers first in a feverish concoction of alcoholic sting and raw desire, holding her chin as his tongue pressed inside. She was still becoming reacquainted with his touch, his flavour, the rasp of his full beard and the flow of his coarse mane. As she spread out on the thin mattress their hardness dug into her sides, hot and inviting.

 

Turning to find Alistair’s earlobe under a strand of ginger, Solona sought that mewl she’d so been missing. She never got there for a rush of shivers indicated Cullen’s lips ascending her neck and chin. A look passed between the two men.

 

Barely a few seconds later she found a pleading gaze seeking hers- shades of liquid honey clouded by uncertainty, years of craving and a lifetime’s regret. Her nod was shaky, her sigh needy when he cupped the back of her head. _At last_ all the stolen glances, the unspoken words and imagined touches unravelled in that first brush of his lips upon hers.

 

Cullen’s kiss was languid exploration, a sharp contrast to Alistair’s ever-unquenchable thirst. Quivering fingertips and a sweaty palm accompanied his first shy taste of her; roaming across alert skin, smoothing her black tresses. The press of his lips was gentle, almost apologetic, and his tongue’s jabs came slow yet deep, as if seeking answers to a decade’s worth of questions. What could have been; why it never was; whether it could yet be.

 

When there was no reaction from Alistair Solona allowed herself a sigh, equal measures of relief and submission. She rose to her knees to draw him closer but swooned, whether from intoxication or titillation. Immediately strong arms caught her, and she nestled against Cullen to the sound of clothes rustling from behind. When she sank backwards it was against the smooth comfort of Alistair’s naked chest. She leaned into his touch, let his musk engulf her. Alistair smoothed out her robes, highlighting her curves under the silken material before opening them, baring her to Cullen’s stare clasp by clasp.

                       

Cullen’s mouth opened a little more with each inch of skin revealed until the cool material slid off her shoulders. Solona shivered- both from the draft intruding through that peculiar hole in the roof and from the heat of Cullen’s eyes mapping her.  She flinched in time with Cullen’s groan when Alistair’s teeth sank into her neck. Again the men shared a glance, so intense the air seemed charged with baleful energy.

 

The tremor in Alistair’s fingers wasn’t lost on her as he undid her band, holding it in place long enough for Cullen’s fists to clench at his sides. When the black cotton fell her breasts pebbled with goose bumps, her peaks stiffening under Cullen’s keen attention.

 

Cullen’s head tilted, the slightest _Maker_ rolling from his parted lips as he recalled too many occasions of watching, of bashfully imagining what lay under those Apprentice robes. Solona could only try to convey in one knowing stare just how often she’d been there herself.

 

With a strangled groan Cullen all but _pounced_ on her, finding her pulse point. She gasped when he sucked while his rough hands, familiar only from lonely dreams, explored. Cullen’s touch bore the regretful reminiscence of what had never been as he scouted along her body; tracing her scars and marks of a Warden’s life; wincing at every thin white line on a patch of dark skin, each telling its own tale of death escaped. His brow sat pinched with the recollection of cruel words, of ties cut in the face of panic and destruction. Soon Cullen’s lips joined his hands, whispering kisses on her scars as if to soothe the heartache they’d caused each other.

 

When he’d made his way towards her bosom, Cullen paused. Cupping the undersides of her breasts, he looked on in awe, his thumbs tracing incredulous half-circles. Cullen’s gaze found hers again, taking in her reaction when his tongue darted out. When the slick muscle swept upon her areola a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding released itself in a shuddering moan. As her dark nipple slipped between his waiting lips she held him to her chest, brushing through his curls like she’d forever wanted to.

 

Alistair’s ragged breaths were sending a tingle down her back to rival that of Cullen's tongue. His graceful nose traced a path up her cheek, into her hair in a much missed caress, exhaling on her whispered name.

 

“ _Solona_.”

 

There it was. That wondrous enunciation she’d so haplessly fallen for all those years ago. All of his hopes, fears and love condensed into three simple syllables. Solona’s arm curled behind her, winding around Alistair’s neck. Her chest arched forward into Cullen’s face, shoving her breasts at him. Her hips began rocking, which Cullen took as a cue to move on.

 

His lips, tongue, his _teeth_ described a trail down her front, each inch he drew nearer stoking the throb between her legs. When he’d reached the shallow oval of her navel his tongue dipped in once, twice, each little flick its own lewd promise.

 

The itch of his beard on her temple indicated Alistair’s nod, and when she opened her eyes Cullen was peeking upwards from between her legs. Trembling hands sat on her thighs, and he was all but grimacing with the looming significance of the act he was about to engage in. When his face disappeared she gasped; clawed at Alistair’s shoulder when his nose sank into her curls; sobbed when he _inhaled_ her then released countless nights of shameful need in a single sigh.

 

As the first timid peck warmed her swollen folds her body, her entire being shook, all air leaving her lungs in a strangled _ah_. Again Cullen’s caress bore the same hesitant reverie, full of _if onlys_ and _could haves_. He studied her in the most intimate detail, each lick and suckle a new discovery, worth ten years’ yearning. From his indulgence rose the scent of her arousal, and the room filled with wanton affirmations and slick noises. His ministrations bore a skill, a precision born from experience, or perhaps from persistent fantasies.

 

As her lust bloomed from deep within, Solona dared to look sideways. Eyes thinned into slits, Alistair’s glare was menacing. Cullen, however, was either ignoring him or too lost in his worship of her to notice. Alistair’s weathered fingers were toying with her nipples, practiced accuracy withstanding alcohol’s influence.

 

When he registered her attention, Alistair spoke. His hoarse timbre, strained equally with longing and malevolence, crept under her skin.

 

“Do you like that?” wide palms ghosting over her bosom.

 

“Did you dream about this?” A fingertip circling each of her areolae.

 

“Being pleasured by the former _Knight-Captain_?” The slurred title was complemented by the slow tug of his digits on her peaks. Along with Cullen’s faint moan reverberating around her pearl the delightful hint of pain was enough to send her spiralling.

 

Magic and pleasure spilled from her; liquid warmth and raw energy. Thousands of tiny light crystals poured from her skin, bathing the dark room in shades of gold and engulfing wherever it touched in a prickly glow. Whereas Alistair groaned at the familiar view, Cullen stilled in a second’s shock before remembering to lap up her honey.

 

When climax released its hold Solona sank back into the sheets, into their embraces. Deep breaths accompanied the slow lift of her lids. Cullen’s hair was dishevelled, the strongest pomade no match for her grasp, the squeeze of her thighs. A fresh scratch mark adorned his forehead and barely a fleck of caramel remained in his eyes. As he held her stare he never moved- save for the downward curve of his mouth and the bob of his thick Adam’s apple when he _swallowed_. The sight sent a throb through her barely-recovered core. From behind a grunt echoed her own whimper.

 

Overcome with sudden affection and rekindled lust, Solona held out her arms. Cullen didn’t leave her waiting. Four, five six kisses marked his way up her torso. When he was facing her she could smell herself on his puffy mouth. Solona’s lips parted, welcoming him in.

 

But the kiss never happened. Instead she slumped sideways when Alistair lunged forward in an explosion of sudden aggression. Solona’s eyes widened a fraction with every split second of fluid, predatory movement. A scream, high notes of horror, tore from her the second Cullen’s head hit the mattress, Alistair pinning his arms down. Though terrified, she shuffled to grab Alistair’s shoulder, tear him off the other man. But he simply held an arm out behind him, stopping her in her tracks.

 

Petrified silence fell over them. From outside a flash of lightning, then another, brightened the room, grimly distorting Alistair’s menacing expression.

 

Unable to read either of their looks, Solona sat by helplessly. Her stomach was twisting and every heartbeat brought a new pulse of fear. “Please,” she whispered, blinking away the sting of tears.

 

Alistair’s eventual answer wasn’t directed at her. His voice rang hoarse and dangerous.

 

“Knight-Captain,” he pressed through tight lips. Though at his mercy, Cullen shook his head, his scar twitching in a half-grin when he replied.

 

“ _Not my title_.” A new wave of panic surged through Solona at the prospect of these two men, both of whom she so craved resorting to violence- _over her_.

 

Alistair chuckled, a throaty blend of spite, determination and something else. _Desire?_

 

“Fine,” he spat at last. “ _Command-“_

 

With the speed and precision of a wild beast Cullen’s thighs wrapped around Alistair’s waist, and he turned to flip their positions. Before the surprised yelp had left Alistair’s lips Cullen was straddling him, holding both his wrists in a tight grip.

 

Another silence, as charged as unbearable.

 

Cullen cocked a mocking eyebrow when he spoke, his baritone dripping with disdain. “ _Warden?”_

 

A roll of his hips punctuated the single word, drawing a gasp from Alistair. Cullen’s smirk was smug and predatory when he pushed down again, and once more for good measure. Alistair moaned.

 

Solona watched, speechless, as Cullen bent down, further pressing his erection into Alistair’s. Faces mere inches from each other, they sized one another up, searching for answers amid glares of jealousy and malice.

 

“So, _Warden_ ,” he hissed, “did you _enjoy_ this?” Another thrust.

 

“Did you _dream_ about this?” Alistair’s lobe between quick teeth. A choked cry.

 

Solona leant back to rest on her elbows. “Please,” a purr now. As their heads turned she pushed her chest out, offering herself up.

 

This time the men needed no silent agreement. Within a second’s blink they were on her, ravishing her all anew. The suckle of greedy lips on her nipples, the swipe of clever fingers along the seam of her sex preceded the grip of two broad hands beckoning her turn over. When she’d settled onto all fours Solona froze at the sight before her.

 

Cullen was kneeling, towering over her. Naked as the Maker had created him and devastatingly erotic. His shoulders were wide as a doorframe, his bulky torso only made more imposing by the collection of scars winding across its sallow skin. Slim hips and thick thighs complemented the perfect vision of masculinity while his poise spoke of near-unbearable hunger. His jaw sat tight, fists balled. Amid a thatch of light brown curls stood a magnificent cock, thick and proud. With the crimson sac already drawn up, the shaft sat straight and meaty, twitching under her scrutiny.

 

This man _wanted_ her with every ounce, every pore of his being. Solona’s shaky glance travelled up his body to find his eyes hooded with untameable lust. She scuttled closer, whining when his heady musk tickled her senses- skin and libido, intoxicating and irresistible. As she licked her lips, his name was about to pour from them, both question and answer, when-

 

“ _Oh!_ ”

 

… when Alistair’s palm landed on her right buttock with a sharp _smack_ , leaving the hot sting of a thousand needles in its wake. As Cullen looked up at him he struck again, sending the same delightful ache down her other side.

 

The curious tension between the men remained. Alistair was letting Cullen have his way, allowed him to plant his arousal right under her nose despite the sour jealousy dripping from his every gesture.

 

Reason had been absent from the start. None of this made any sense. Yet when she focussed straight ahead, when she leant into Cullen’s warm palm cupping her cheek, it felt as though forever meant to be.

 

“ _Solona_.” The same three syllables, a voice just as urgent. Rather than rekindling precious memories, it roused desires of a youth, a life long left behind.

 

Drawing closer, she nodded her permission. As her mouth opened his hand settled on her hair in a stroke as light as her lips’ tender brush on his prick.

 

Solona was going to hold his stare as she sucked gingerly; peek up from under her lashes as her tongue traced the thick vein all the way down his length. Instead her eyes stung and her cheeks burnt when he was shoved down her throat as Alistair claimed her with one smooth thrust.

 

She yelped around a mouthful of Cullen when he suddenly filled her. Alistair’s grunt harmonised with Cullen’s hum as his torso came to rest upon her back, hard muscle and flushed skin covering her vertebrae by vertebrae. His nose traced up her neck, her jaw, his beard’s gentle itch drawing a hiss from her. Plump lips found her ear, bathing her in hot breath and a sultry whisper.

 

“ _Solona_.” Her name once more- a plea this time, anxious notes of despair fluttering under the lustful rumble. She winced at his sudden emotion, choking back a sob with each of the feather-light kisses he planted along the stretch of her neck.

 

Then he withdrew in a painstakingly slow drag, leaving her infuriatingly empty. She remained still, her every nerve tingling with anticipation. When the tip of him slid back inside Alistair’s nails dug into her shoulder and his breath released on a strained falsetto. Solona knew then his head was falling back, his mouth agape and his brow creasing from the force of his pleasure. She knew he’d continue on a slow glide, predicted the drop of his head on her shoulder when he was fully sheathed. In the middle of their fateful tryst her body remembered him, his feel, their prefect fit. Inevitably her heart recalled why she’d chosen him, his laughter, his love.

 

But yet Cullen remained before her, sat fat and throbbing between her lips, and she moved. Slid backwards then took him in again, flicking her tongue up and down until he hit the back of her throat with a barely-human noise.

 

And so they fell into a rhythm of back and forth, slurps and swallows, hisses and moans. From Solona’s indecisive need, from the men’s venomous competitiveness rose a joint dynamic, a shared pursuit of release.

 

Thrust by thrust Alistair’s curved length caressed her most delicate spot as if trying to fill the void left by her two-year absence. Each of his strokes came deeper, harder as he watched the other man’s shaft glide in and out of his love’s eager mouth.

 

Cullen’s girth stretched her lips on to the flexed round of a buttock, supporting herself on one arm.

 

Solona writhed, moaned from the fullness, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, their ever-heavier pants and groans. Hands were on her now, tweaking a stiff nipple; seeking the plump bulb pulsing atop of where Alistair was now plunging into her.

 

Climax hit her by surprise, unfolding in a shock of heat; releasing in a bright flash of magic and a keening wail filling the room. Sweaty skin colliding with hers, increasingly erratic thrusts and breathless grunts kept her floating, riding out her high until they joined her.

 

Hapless, uncontrolled stabs of insatiable loins. Hot spurts, bitter and sticky. Her name yet again. A chant now, rapturous as if she were the Prophet herself. Exhausted figures above her, holding on to each other for a mere second. Everything drowning out- right and wrong, lust and jealousy.

 

Then it was over. Softening flesh slipped from her, warm embraces surrounding her as her glow faded and the room returned to ominous twilight.

 

No more words or looks. Under the rising moon’s argent shimmer they sank into the mattress, warm bodies moulding into each other as someone pulled up the covers. Brandy and fatigue claimed equal tolls, lulling the serendipitous lovers into the Fade.

 

Dreams plagued her that night- of possibilities and regrets, of taboo and tragedy. Their memory mercifully evaded her once the sunlight’s tickle and alcohol’s lingering sting roused her.

 

Dry-mouthed disorientation lasted but a moment before the proximity of limbs and masculine scents brought back the night’s events with full force. Solona shot up to find Alistair sitting beside her, watching silently.

 

The silence remained as they stood and got dressed, ready to leave. Cullen blinked at her from drowsy eyes, mouthing what could have been her name before she hastily turned to follow Alistair down the creaky ladder.

 

Solona didn’t know whether those three syllables meant _farewell_ or _stay_. She had no idea whether that glimpse over her shoulder, duly ignored by Alistair, was her last of Cullen before she commenced her new life.

 

All she knew was that this one night had changed everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> [Find me (and the boys) on Tumblr!](https://http://cullenstairshenanigans.t%20Tumblr.com) ʘ‿ʘ


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